


Extraordinary Way

by completetheory



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Body Positive, Consensual Tzimisce fleshcrafting, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Multi, No Smut, Nonsexual Nudity, Other, Shapeshifting, Standalone, Trans identity, Xenomelia (Former), genitalia mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21554296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completetheory/pseuds/completetheory
Summary: Archbishop Andrei takes on an extracurricular project, with absolutely no intention of becoming attached. Stanley Gimble's always known something wasn't quite right with this whole body modification business, but it takes vampiric revelation to figure out what.
Relationships: Andrei (Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines)/Stanley Gimble
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Extraordinary Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadScientific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadScientific/gifts).



> This mini story is set in the same universe as the ongoing "Blankets the Night" but contains no significant spoilers, and occurs somewhere in between chapters 9 and 13. I had no space to fit in their first encounter in BtN, so it spilled over here.

The Sabbat had been watching the fledgling off and on since their trial by fire at the Nocturne Theater, but not in any serious way. No one expected anything spectacular out of a new Kindred, especially one without a Sire. The life expectancy, even for fledglings who knew what they were doing was just under a year - they were ignorant and trouble magnets. If they survived that, more people might take an interest. 

Still, it usually paid to investigate what the Prince's gofer left an area looking spooked and disgusted, and that was how Stanley Gimble came to be in the Archbishop's haven. Initially, Andrei took the prostheticist for dead, as the fledgling must have done, but further investigation with something more sophisticated than a medical degree (and more entertaining), involving spreading open the chest cavity, revealed that Gimble was in a coma. That heart was beating just fine, with minimal interruption, and Andrei closed the ribcage up again thoughtfully. 

The Tzimisce was actually quite busy, at night. During the day, his business was rote and manageable, while most Kindred slept, he worked, with aluminum foil on the windows, and had specific nap cycles. So it was of very little inconvenience to set aside some time, intrigued by this case, to _tend to_ the injured human. The amputated arm was, admittedly, what sealed Andrei's interest. Without it, Gimble might have been like any other human caught in the crossfire of Kindred disagreements: as disposable as a shovelhead, or more so. 

He spent a few days mitigating the brain swelling, supplying food via enteral feeding, and managing other bodily functions with passive curiosity. The prognosis for comas from head injuries was better than those related to oxygen deprivation, but by the third day, Andrei gave in to a mounting impulse and mingled his own blood with the nutrients in the tube. Satisfied, he went back to fine-tuning curtain tiebacks of human hair, giving it an hour or so to take before checking on his guest again.

Gimble came awake with a start, not restrained, but too weak to dislodge any of the medical equipment. "Mmf-... Oh." 

Andrei's appearance seemed to serve as confirmation that Gimble was still in a nightmare, at least for the first few seconds. Then her brain came fully awake and she recognized, appreciated, and admired Andrei's face all in the same moment. 

"You're beautiful." Gimble said happily, "Where do you come from?" 

"Romania." Andrei couldn't help but be amused, "You don't fear." 

Gimble thought about it. "I do fear, on occasion. Just not right now. How in the world did you get bone grafts to extend so far up? May I touch them?"

As Gimble seemed to have no concerns about her own injuries or mortality, Andrei drew closer and kept her on track. "Yes. --You have been very unwell. I took care of you, gave you my blood, and you have become stronger from it." 

Despite Gimble's lack of strength, she still reached up to touch the side of Andrei's face, where the bony frill met a lack of ear, and looked enamoured of the exploration. The words still registered, just under the importance of how magnificent he looked. "Thank you. Are you a doctor?" 

"Of a sort." Andrei let the fingers explore as they would, feeling a pleasant shiver, like an artist whose work was actively being appreciated. 

Realization dawned slowly. "These aren't grafts, are they. Your squamosal and parietal bones are naturally fused that way. Could you have been _born_ like this? I've never seen anything like it." 

"Not so lucky to have been born as I wished to look." Andrei glanced down, at Gimble's prosthetic arm, "But I had fortune enough, as I navigated through this world, to find someone who wished to help me refine what I was given at birth. I am not the product of Mother Nature, or any Father God that you would recognize. I made myself as you see me, purposefully, with all of the skill available to me." 

Gimble's delight mingled with the uncertainty, neither emotion the lesser for it. "I don't understand at all, but I love how you speak. Goodness. You are incredible. Oh, I quite forget myself in all this excitement; my name is Stanley Gimble. Please, call me Stanley." 

Of course the human did not fully understand anything happening, and had dismissed the blood transfusion as unimportant. While it was a necessary medical procedure, culturally, it was a great deal more. Andrei did not consider the offering of blood to create ghouls as a binding agreement for their service... this sort of attitude led to the enslavement of Childer to their Sires, that one should be _grateful_ to have the blood. Or to be rescued. 

He folded his arms behind himself, gravely. "Stanley. I am the Archbishop Andrei. I look like this because, in simple terms, I am a 'vampire'." 

Gimble hesitated. "What, you mean you're... dead? You drink blood and avoid sunlight, and all of that?" She sat up slowly, noticing the feeding tube and realizing all at once how extensive Andrei's care had been. It looked like she didn't know how to acknowledge that, so she didn't, plucking absently at the prosthetic's fingers with her other hand. "I must admit, I can't think of a better explanation for your appearance. Except, possibly, some sort of alien evolution of the triceratops...?" 

"Styracosaurus." Andrei said, automatically, revealing a bit much of his enthusiasm for the science, "Remain here, Stanley." 

Gimble obeyed, more from physical weakness than capacity to resist the lure of this odd place. It looked like a half-built basement, and there were limbs scattered here and there that looked equally unfinished, most as inhuman as Andrei himself. Some were longer than the bones ought to allow, some had extremely thin and lengthened fingers, like those of a bat. All were in an experimental state, but there was curiously little rot, or even unwholesome blood smell. 

A vampire! Perhaps. Without the physical examination, Gimble would've been less ready to believe it. But those bones, their shape under the skin... it wasn't anything Gimble could account for, otherwise. It didn't seem like a prank, either. An entirely different species would cover it. 

It felt as though Andrei was gone for a long time, but it could only have been thirty minutes: there was no way to tell even remotely what time of day it was. When he returned, it was with a warm bowl of stew, sufficiently hearty but easy to digest, and Gimble ate it slowly, finding it delicious, even if she was starving. It tasted of garlic and faintly paprika, predominantly, but there were also carrots and cut pieces of meat. It didn't bother her to look over and see discarded limbs, and not just because she was a kind-of-sort-of serial killer. She'd never particularly minded eating in close quarters to dissection. Nor did she mind the intent way that Andrei was looking at her. 

"You really do look like an angel." Gimble confessed, blowing on a spoonful. "But the unholy kind. --This is so good! What is it?" 

"Thank you. It is ostropel. A meaty stew; red sauce, chicken, and garlic. My grandmother's recipe, actually." 

"I'd like to tell her myself." Gimble enthused. 

Andrei took the empty bowl and spoon. "Unfortunate. She has been dead since 1877." 

"Oh right. Excuse me. Err." Gimble hunted for safer ground, despite the apparent lack of offense. "You've been a vampire for... some time, then?" 

The Tzimisce set the dishes aside, taking up a dismembered arm from the table, absently kneading the muscle. Gimble watched, rapt, as Andrei spoke, "I am young, by our people's standard. I was Embraced in 1898. There are many vastly older than I." 

"Good lord. _How_ many? Why haven't I seen them?" Although Gimble was beginning to suspect the beggar who broke into her basement and beat her up was a vampire. There was something inhumanly strong about them, and inhuman _generally_. Not in the way that Andrei looked, almost hyena-esque.

"You have not seen them because not all are Tzimisce; many of the Cainites look like the mortals they once were. And many fools in the Camarilla encourage secrecy, and the deference toward humanity that requires their Masquerade, fearing the consequences of exposure. But in a sense, they are right. If the Cainites could only stop destroying one another, to focus on our real enemies, then we would not each need to fear humanity, either. Splintered as we are..."

Gimble blinked, aware she was missing vast swaths of context. Several of these words were unfamiliar to her, but she latched onto what she could understand. "Humans are dreadfully judgmental, aren't they--we. I can't say I've felt completely comfortable around others of my ilk, right from when I was young. I've had xenomelia for several years; that's partly why I did this!" She waved the prosthetic at Andrei. "And, gender dysphoria, err, which is why-- I keep to myself, mostly. Even in Santa Monica, it's not particularly easy."

Andrei looked grave, some confirmation of a suspicion he'd been nursing. "Many - almost all - among the Tzimisce felt dissatisfaction with their bodies. If you have already pursued medical knowledge, if you covet a greater control over bio-machinery, you are well on your way to becoming one of us, Stanley." 

"There are a few forums for people like me, though; Usenet, IRC. It's not all bad." A beat. "Wait just a minute. 'Becoming one of us'? Are you inviting me?" 

"Not yet. We are centuries in the making. Eons. We stretch back to the time before Christ, to the Garden of Eden. Children of the firstborn son of Adam. We do not Embrace immediately, but - in your case, I would say it is because I wish for you to understand the full commitment you would make. The Tzimisce serve the Sabbat, which is an organization... with a great history of its own. A multi-headed entity, with a duty to fulfill. It is not simply freedom from the human flesh that we offer." 

Gimble was powerfully intrigued. "Go on, please! I want to understand. Very much." 

Andrei set down his project, to give Gimble his full attention. "Where to begin? Our sect was born in the fire and suffering of the human Middle Ages, seeking to escape persecution from within and without. We are the children of Caine, and we are destined to inherit the earth. But the Camarilla would prefer to cower alongside humanity, fearing to claim their birthright. ...It is not all so simple. Our ancestors are also of great danger to us. To become Tzimisce, _real_ Tzimisce, one must accept a potential death while serving Caine and resisting Gehenna - the end of the world as we know it. We do not believe in inexorable fate... we _may_ die, and that is all."

"I almost died once, and it wasn't for a very good cause." Gimble admitted. "I'm not eager to do it again, but it sounds as though your people have companionship in times of trial, at least?" 

The Tzimisce moved to the stairs, "I am alone in Los Angeles, but all across the world, there are those who practice Tzimisce hospitality. Yes. I can call for that comfort." This reminded him. "You are welcome to remain in my hospitality, as my honored guest, while you recover. I have given you the blood - this warms your heart toward me. You must remain aware of that." 

It sounded, incredibly, like Andrei didn't want to coerce her. Wobbly legged, she got up to follow, this time removing the various medical devices with skill and aplomb. Andrei tried, and failed, to disguise that he was impressed with how deftly she managed. When she got to the foot of the stairs, she stumbled, still weak from lack of food, and he caught her arm to steady her. 

"What do you mean? Your blood makes me like you more?" 

"Yes. The more you are given, the more you will come to like me, unless I am very careful and give you but one draught every thirty days, so that your body can process it." 

Stanley was thinking ahead more than she usually did. "What happens when I'm recovered?" 

The straight backed Tzimisce didn't hesitate. "If you wish to stay with me, you may stay with me. If you wish to assume a new identity, I will reshape your face, and give you freedom to rejoin the world."

"Aren't you afraid I'll tell people about your - spinal cord staircases?" Gimble admired the vertebrae in question. 

"No. The Sabbat does not expend particular energy trying to convince human beings we are not who we say we are. And many of the humans who try to speak about us, until recently, ended up in what you called insane asylums." 

"Ohhhh. Where do they end up now?" Gimble wondered if a recent Sabbat policy had been changed.

"The street. They closed these buildings." Andrei was mild. "But in either case it would not be to your benefit to speak of what you have seen. No one will believe you. So I can trust that you will be quiet, and let you go." 

"I don't particularly want to go." Gimble admitted. She let Andrei guide her into the bedroom with some relief, still tired, and Andrei tucked her into a bed that was itself halfway normal, though the room had many unusual flayed forms and the walls were stretched-tight skin that pulsed, blue veined and alive. She closed her eyes, unable to believe how exhausted she was despite having slept so much already. 

"You're healing. Be patient. Even with my blood, your body has little experience repairing damage on that scale." Andrei stepped away from the bed, indicating, "I shall leave a bell. Ring if you require something." 

Gimble slept for a long time, semi-consciously aware of murmuring downstairs - Andrei's now familiar voice, and someone else, but she couldn't make out the words. A police siren wailed in the distance and she shifted restlessly, but she trusted Andrei enough that she didn't wake fully. This felt like a safe place to be still and formless for a time. 

When she finally came back to herself, Andrei was in the room again, puttering around without looking too concerned about her status. He set down a plate of something that smelled delicious - polenta, he called it - and then noticed she was awake. 

"Hello, Stanley." 

"Andrei. I feel much better. What you said earlier; may I stay with you?" 

"For as long as you like." 

Gimble spent a week healing in the Tzimisce's home. Near the end of that week, Andrei laid hands on her to shape her flesh as she desired. He smoothed and changed the details of her face, and ran his hands down her body, coaxing the fat and muscle under her skin. Humans were incredibly similar to one another, and it was no grand project, as it would be for a Tzimisce to shape their own form into something wholly inhuman, to alter the bones completely and make good room for the organs. This was simply a re-arrangement of what was already there, and as far as Andrei was concerned, the "male and female body" were one and the same, with the redistribution of a handful of unimportant traits. It was practically one temple. Tzimisce philosophy held that there were far more abberant forms in need of exploration...

He gave her breasts, enhanced the gentle outcroppings of her pelvis, and shaped a vagina for her with an absent sculptor's talent. It didn't hurt, or even itch, but the air on her body felt ultra sensitive, each pore more alive than ever before. Truthfully he changed very little, but what he did do for her felt very satisfying. 

All Andrei's touches were surgically chaste, and when he was done, he ran a bath for her, washed his elegant scalpel claws, and excused himself. He often disappeared for days at a time, managing the local Sabbat as something of a religious figure - even now Gimble was sketchy on some of the details. But this time she didn't hear the door, so she assumed he was still in the building, just wanted to give her some privacy. 

She bathed herself, feeling as comfortable now as she had when she'd first woken in Andrei's presence, and seen the way he looked - and the way he looked at her. The curious appearance that spoke volumes of his wonderfully strange personality.

"Oh, I am lucky," She reattached her prosthetic when Andrei entered, "To know you, I mean. To have met you." 

"This is comfortable?" He observed her body, and she stood taller to invite his scrutiny. The slight weight redistribution did almost nothing to unbalance her, and yet she felt almost giddy, lightheaded, finding it hard to steady herself for other reasons. Joy, excitement surged inside her.

"Yes. I like it very much. At some point I might want to go back, or go in a completely third direction, but for now, this is just marvelous. Thank you." 

Andrei chuckled, prowling a circle around her. "Here I believed Cainite blood could work alchemy on mortal spirits.... but it is I who feels helpless, in thrall, at the sight of you. And it is not that I like my own work so very much." He came around to Gimble's front again, bowed to her, and then knelt in his full regalia on the bathroom floor. "I wish to be near you." 

"Ahah, well, that's easy enough." As the headcrest was so close, she reached out to stroke it, a bit awed, but not at all worried. Andrei had never shown anger around her, it was easy to think he had it well in check, so his strength, his abilities, didn't seem to matter so much. It was easy to trust him.

"Would you like to drink my blood at some point?" Gimble wondered. 

"Yes." Andrei stood again, drawing in close, to hold her in his arms, her naked warm flesh pressed to his clothes. "But not now. So rarely do I find a resonating spirit. I would cherish you, and make you one of mine." 

"I think you already have."


End file.
